


The Guardian

by hypnoscissorsghostnerd



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crime Fighting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kind Steve Rogers, Natasba is a good wingman, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoscissorsghostnerd/pseuds/hypnoscissorsghostnerd
Summary: You're an ex-soldier who quickly retired after having to pick up after the Avengers fought Ultron. It was chaotic. You had to see too many innocent lives lost.Building your own business over your knowledge in chemistry and biology, you were able to create a small empire and a name for yourself researching toxic plants to turn into medicine. Nick Fury once again comes into your life and pulls you away from this and enlists you as part of the Avengers to figure out a new alien plant that may be the cure to many diseases around the world.This is where you meet a lovelorn Steve Rogers. He didn't expect a winged soldier to come into the HQ of S.H.I.E.L.D. He didn't expect to fall for her, either.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	1. Fury's Demand

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” the voice wavered through your phone’s speakers.

A young man’s concerned face fills the screen, his eyes searching the corners for any signs of you. Cleanly shaven, hair perfectly styled to one side, foundation baked so well that you could’ve sworn it was his second skin, his eyelashes naturally so long you wondered why he wore mascara. Mr. Perfectionist always wanted to stick his nose in whenever you needed “help”.

However, you left the phone facing upwards at your ceiling, so for now, he had to enjoy the views of the tiles and bright can lights above.

You scrambled across your penthouse of an office, paper flying as you struggle with the harness. An h-shaped piece of leather was supposed to suppress the two extra limbs sprouting for your back, making it easier to walk through doorways and hiding it under a large coat. It just looked like you were carrying a backpack underneath.

“I’m f-fine,” you grunt.

With a final heave, the leather slides over your shoulder as though the task had been easy in the first place.

“Ah!” you sigh. “Finally!”

You walk triumphantly to the phone and lift it for your assistant to see.

“See, William?” you grin. “I had it all under control.”

The young man’s face contorts as though he was cringing at the sight.

“Oooh,” he hisses through his teeth. “Honey, your left wing…”

His voice drifts as you see him get up from his desk. Your eyes widen as you look up at the door.

“No, don’t come in!” you protest, but the door slides open anyway.

William walks in with his hands on his hips, his suit freshly laundered and--did he iron his _tie_?!

You watch silently with a bit lip, guiltily staring at him as your office was a mess from your struggles. William tsks at you as he shifts the harness. Your left wing felt a little off as you felt relief in your joint and in your shoulder as it slides into place, perfectly folding against your body as he aligns the leather.

“I don’t know why you even want to wear that thing,” he sighs.

“Because, William,” you make eye contact with him as he fixes the front of the harness above your breasts so they weren’t squashed. “I’m a freak of nature already. This is one thing I can control.”

William purses his lips, unsure how to respond. He lingers before you for another minute before your eyes drilling into him made him break eye contact and look down at his phone. His manicured nails taps the screen as a bell rings.

“Right on time,” he says, showing you the screen.

At first, you only saw the time. 14:30. Just two and a half hours until the office closes and you can crawl home into your large hammock that cradled you and your wings so perfectly, it was more like a nest of pillows and blankets than a traditional bed.

“Are you listening?” William clears his throat. You blink.

Oh. He was talking to you.

“I said you have a meeting downstairs in Conference Room Three,” he speaks slowly. “He just walked in.”

“Who?” you raise a brow. “I don’t remember a two-thirty appointment.”

“It was urgent,” William shrugs. Before you could ask any more questions or protests, he turns to lead you out of the office and to the conference room.

* * *

Conference Room Three was a smaller room that seats six people rather than a dozen like the other offices can. A large oval table sat in the center of the room with lush office chairs neatly pushed in. The room was lit, but there was nobody there.

You turn around only to see William close the door behind you, eyeing you apologetically as he hurries away. He must’ve gotten orders from someone higher or more terrifying if he was leaving you alone without an explanation like this.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Guardian,” a deep voice rumbled.

Or both.

“Oh no,” you groan as you turn back around to face the conference table.

Like some sort of cheap magic show, Nick Fury appears in the seat at the end of the table, farthest from you. He casually sips a cup of steaming liquid. You can tell by the smell that it’s your special espresso. You narrow your eyes. It was expensive and you had to jump through some hoops to get the authentic quality…

“That’s not polite,” he sighs. “I thought I would get more of a response from you.”

“What do you want?” you groan. “I’m not joining your ‘SHIP’ crew.”

“It’s S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he corrects impatiently.

“SHIT, got it.”

“Look, I don’t have time for your games,” Fury places the cup down gently on the saucer before him, the gentle ‘clink’ of ceramic contradicting his angry tone. “You’re coming with me to our HQ to help cultivate a small plant that may help save thousands of people.”

You blink a couple of times in disbelief, your mouth moving to speak with no words coming out. You shake your head and scoff.

“I have a business to run,” you wave your hand vaguely at the door. “I can’t just leave.”

“You have more than enough assistants and managers to run while you are away,” he replies. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m not doing this again.”

Fury stares you down for a moment before he continues.

“You tie down your wings so you can be normal,” he growls. “Did you get them clipped, too?”

You can feel your feathers fluff in agitation. A cold shudder runs down your back and the feathers ruffle under the harness. The extra limbs’ joints are a little sore. You roll your shoulder to attempt to relieve the pressure, but it doesn’t work. You needed relief.

“Need help?” Fury barely asks the question before a rough hand shoves you down against the table.

You turn your head so it doesn’t collide with the smooth oak beneath you. The hand pins you down as you struggle. You let out a yelp in protest but another pair of hands pin your arms behind your back and hold you down. The first pair yanks on your harness. You can hear metal grind against the leather before an audible ‘pop’ echoes in the room.

The leather falls away from your shoulders and the hands lift off your back. You whip around to see armored agents standing on either side of you. They stand at rest at each side, showing that they had no malicious intent besides ripping the harness of your body.

“Now that I’ve freed you,” Fury sighs as he stands. He makes his way towards you and you stay still, unsure what to do next. “It looks like you owe me.”

Knowing you were outnumbered, you simply sigh. The fighter within you is long gone.

“You could’ve just asked William to help me get it off,” you grumble.

“We’re in agreement.”

Fury walks past you and out of the conference room. The two agents stare at you expectantly. When you follow him out, they stand on either side of you. You weren’t sure if you were being escorted or if you were a captive.


	2. New Rooms, New Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re introduced to your new “penthouse”...which also turns out to be your new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have to stop making so many fanfics. I know more people are interested in my Overwatch stuff, but I’m bored.

The room that Fury had set you up in was more of a library mixed with a lab. With a queen-sized bed neatly made on the farthest corner in an alcove.

You sigh heavily as you stretch out your wings, measuring the room.

Your wingspan reached out to about 12 feet. You took a couple steps sideways, counting your steps and careful not to stray much from your straight line as you avoided the desk stocked with materials. You stop when you feel your outermost feathers touch the wall and tuck your wings back in. If your math was right, they gave you a 400 square foot rectangular room.

As you went about checking the vials and materials along with the neat array of books you would need to refer to if you needed, you finally settle your gaze on the large bed. You often slept on the floor on in a hammock in your studio apartment. 

You didn’t realize an hour had passed until you heard someone stepping close to your room. You knew when they were going to knock before they did.

“Come in,” you called out.

The door opened and you saw a familiar woman with short red hair. She looked pleased with your room before her eyes settled on you. Or more precisely—your wings. And in her hands, she carried a box labeled “FRAGILE”.

“When Fury said we got a bird in the cage, I didn’t think literally,” her voice rolled. It was sweet and enticing.

“Black Widow,” you smiled in kind.

“No, call me Natasha,” she replies smoothly. She looks around your room and at your unpacked suitcase. The bed was already disheveled, the blankets meticulously placed at the foot of the bed so you can pull it over your shoulders lazily. She chooses the empty lab desk and settles the box down. Some glass clank in the vibrations.

“What’s that, Natasha?” You ask, pointing at the box.

“Your first project,” she flashes you a smile as she backs away from it as though she was admiring her handiwork. “The boys and I got this small collection from Germany.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

You move to the box and begin unpacking, getting ready to work. Inside were field samples of soil, pollen, and the undulating sap of a glowing tree? You observe the report that came with it before pulling it up on a monitor before you. They were unique samples, yes, but they look like regular flowers to the untrained eye. Immediately, you pull up the soil sample to figure out if there was even a slight disturbance to the pH levels or the charge the soil emitted.

You were so busy in your work that you didn’t realize Natasha was still in the room. Embarrassed, you turned around with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you smile. “Little distracted. Did you come for something else?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said, returning the gentle smile. Her arms are crossed and her head is tilted as though she was in a daze. “It’s cute watching you work.”

You felt red over your cheeks and your wings reflexively wrap tighter around your body. Natasha lets out a giggle and motions out into the hallway.

“We’re having lunch soon,” she said. “Nothing special. Some sandwiches, chips, homemade pickles from Barton’s family.”

“Uhh,” you hesitate, looking around the room.

“Come,” she reaches a hand out towards you. “It’s good to meet your new roommates.”

* * *

If Natasha’s fingers weren’t comfortingly interlaced with yours, you wouldn’t have gone down the stairs and through the oddly empty hallways to the main lounge area where the rest of the “team” was gathered around the bar. You could hear teeth crunching into the chips before Natasha opened the door.

Conversation died down and all eyes fell on you. Nervous, your wings sidled up around your body and over your shoulders. The first bend of your wing opposite of Natasha pressed lightly against your cheek.

Across the room were familiar faces. Natasha began introducing you, but your brain had already named them off in the order that you saw them:

Wanda Maximoff, sipping on some juice. Tony Stark who shoveled chips in his mouth. Bruce Banner who was cutting his sandwich in half oh-so-carefully. Sam Wilson stood next to Steve Rogers, reaching over the soldier’s forearm for the jar of pickles.

They all greeted you in kind, though Tony’s gaze lingered a little too long on your lips.

“She took my thing,” Sam protests at Natasha. He looks around the room, looking for support. “She took my thing!”

“Oh it’s more than just wings,” Natasha tsk’s at him. “She does much more than that.”

Before he could as for an explanation, your mouth opens before you could stop yourself. 

“I’m a biologist,” you blurt. “I’m just here for some studying then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Bruce scoffs as he takes a bite of his sandwich. Attention was adverted from you to him.

“That’s what I said when I first came back,” he mutters. “Turns out that’s not all what they needed me for.”

An awkward silence fell in the room as Natasha clears her throat and lets go of your hand, only to get you a plate ready. She listed off your food allergens with a smirk as she carefully assimilates your lunch. You feel yourself blush and take the plate from her gratefully as she also adds one of Barton’s homemade pickles. You take a bite out of the crunchy vegetable to be pleasantly surprised.

“I’ll just ask it,” Tony says, lips smacking as he swallows his food before he continued to speak. “What’s with the wings?”

“Oh,” you say, your heart dropping. You could feel your hands tremble at the thought of invoking those memories.

“Come on, don’t push it,” Natasha comes to your aid. “Leave it be.”

You gave her a smile and a nod in thanks, which was when you finally lifted your eyes from your plate long enough to meet the gaze of a pair of blue ones.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You were a unique case. No uniform, no serum. Just you with a giant pair of wings. That being said, of course people stared. Steve Rogers was no different. But despite the fact that Sam was eyeing your extra limbs as well, Steve was staring at _you_. Something about it unnerved you and you looked away.

“Thank you,” you raise your plate at Natasha. “I should uh. Get back to work.” Your eyes gaze across the room.

“Pleasure meeting all of you,” you say and quickly dismiss yourself back to your room.

* * *

“You scared her off,” Tony bumps into Steve’s arm deliberately as he carries a small bag of chips in his hands, shoving his hand into it, looking for more.

“Excuse me?” Steve raises a brow, his eyes carefully following Tony’s movements.

“Staring at her with those big blues of yours,” Tony motions at his face. He makes a point by widening his eyes and staring intently at Steve.

“Stop that.”

“That’s how uncomfortable you made her,” Tony retorts.

“Nobody is going to mention that my _thing_ is now taken by somebody else?” Sam complains. “What do I have now? Some rockets?”

“Sam, at ease,” Steve raises a hand at him.

“Boys, boys,” Natasha chimes. “She’s new and obviously was coerced to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. We need to give her time to adjust.”

She walks past the rest to look in the fridge. She pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses. She turns again before pressing them on Steve’s chest.

“And you owe her an apology,” she chastises and lets go of the items against his chest, forcing him to reflexively press his arms against the fragile items in his arms to avoid glass and wine shattering everywhere.

“Hey, hey!” Tony points at the wine. “That’s my Romanee-Conti Grand Cru!”

“And you can always get yourself another one,” Natasha replies coyly and Wanda giggles at Steve’s horrified expression.


	3. Wine and the Black Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha convinces Steve to try to talk to the newest member of the team, but he’s not as smooth as he wanted to be.

The curtains in your room did an amazing job at blocking out most of the sunlight. Maybe that’s why you didn’t realize that the sun was setting by the time you looked up from your desk, making minimal progress in your research and couldn’t help but groan.

You stand to set up your microscope for the umpteenth time and created yet another new, clean slide. Maybe you’re not having any luck. Maybe you’ve just had bad batches. Maybe this, maybe that.

Science sure was full of uncertainties. And it pissed you off.

Again, the slide gave you no new information.

Fed up and irritated, you stand up and kick the desk, making a loud clanging noise as glass clattered on the desk.

“If you have the strength to kick our expensive equipment around,” a deep voice interrupts your thoughts. “You have time for some sparring.”

You roll your eyes as you turn around, sighing angrily.

“Fury,” you offer a fake smile. “I’m here as a researcher.”

“So you’re confirming that you’re out of shape,” he says, crossing his arms at your doorway.

Your face flushes angrily as your brows furrow. Your lips move to retort but nothing smart can come out.

“Come on, Guardian,” he comes into the room to shepherd you out. You blubbered protests, but Fury wasn’t having it.

* * *

It has been years since you fought, much less sparred. So when you were staring at an agent in the face, standing opposite of you on a padded floor, you were rightfully nervous. Fury had graciously given you a comfortable bodysuit to train in that even had custom-made zippers on your back to hug around your wings so that you were fully covered.

There were nine agents in the room in total. They lined the room, their arms behind their back and standing with their legs shoulder-width apart. They were at ease, but their intent stares and the numbers of them showed that they were there in case you lost control. You felt a little uneasy and a bit disrespected, but you did your best to focus on the task at hand.

“I don’t want to do this,” you tell the agent.

“I don’t have a choice, ma’am,” he replies before charging at you.

You quickly block his attack with an arm and you can already feel the impact of your bones clashing through your skin. You definitely weren’t calloused enough for a fight.

He reaches down to grab your belt for leverage, but you raise a knee and clock him in the shoulder. He twists away as you block his foot from narrowly hitting your face. You yank on his foot and your blood began to pump adrenaline. You felt your body shudder as more strength returned to your body, the natural instinct to protect yourself kicking in.

His body flew across the room and hit his back on one of the padded walls. Your eyes widened with surprise as he groaned to get up.

“I-I’m so sorry!” You gasped. “I didn’t mean to—!”

A foot hits you square in the back, sending pain in one of your extra limbs. Again, you whip around and you defend yourself, blocking a hit with your forearm before twisting to grab another fist coming your way. More and more agents joined in and you can feel nearly five different hands on you, trying to apprehend you, trying to push you to your limit.

Your wings snapped open as you let out a shout of defiance, sending back bodies as your extra limbs carried more force than you’d wanted. Another agent charges at you only for you to duck and flick your wings open again, the heavy part of your second joint clocking someone in the face and your other wing backhand slapping another body away from you.

Drenched in sweat, you pant as you feel another pair of hands on you. You groan, exhausted, but you turn to defend yourself as a fist comes quickly to your face. You flap your wings and a couple agents staggers back, intimidated. The fist was blocked by a wing as you twisted for a swift kick to their stomach.

Pushing your body past its limits was taking its toll. You can feel the...experiments...of your past starting to ice your veins. As you breathed out, your breath was visible. You saw an agent who was closest to you shudder, presumably cold rather than fear.

“Stop,” Fury barks.

Your head snaps at him before you lower your wings and they slowly close around your body. Fury made a motion with his hand that was so subtle, an untrained soldier would not have noticed it. But unfortunately for you, you noticed everything.

Natasha walked in calmly with her head up high. She came up to you with a gentle smile.

“Hello, dear,” she says. “It’s gotten chilly in here, huh?”

“Huh?” You echo her last word. 

She gently takes your hands, but she seems hesitant at first. Your body warms as you try and relax.

“Your eyes change color, too, huh?” She smiles. “I didn’t realize there was so much to you than I first realized.”

Your gaze fixes on her. 

Why can’t you focus? Man, this headache hurts.

“Sorry we pushed you so far,” she says empathetically. Your wings are close to your body now, your feathers once bristled now smooth.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t...”

You pull away from her, turning to face Fury who was watching with criticizing eyes. You glare at him, your eyes narrowing and his head tilts up in a challenge.

“I don’t spar,” you spat towards him and quickly leave the room.

* * *

You whip around corners, hopelessly lost as you try to find familiar hallways and corridors to make your way back to your lab. You wanted to go to bed. You wanted to go home.

But you were trapped.

When you finally make your way back to your room, you saw a lumbering figure make its way to your doorway just as you arrived. You were startled to see Captain America turning around the corner. He looked just as surprised to see you there.

“I thought you were in your room,” he admits.

He glances down at his arms where you saw that he held a bottle of wine and two glasses in the other. He meets your gaze again before you see him hesitate to speak.

“I was told to deliver this,” he says. “To you.”

His choppy words were endearing, but you shake your head with a slight laugh.

“No offense, Cap,” you sigh. “But I had a really rough day. I don’t think alcohol is the best thing for me right now.”

He eyes your suit before letting out a slight laugh himself.

“Post workout,” he nods. “Of course.”

Did you detect a sense of disappointment in his words?

No, it couldn’t be.

The silence was awkward enough. You feign a smile and give him a nod before entering your room.

“Hey—“ he says before you close the door behind you.

“As a fellow...soldier,” he starts, his lips moving hesitantly before continuing. He was searching your eyes for something, maybe some encouragement. But instead, your brows furrow in confusion.

“As a fellow soldier?” You echo, trying to encourage him to finish his sentence.

“I have had my share of...unpleasantries,” he continues. He clears his throat before raising a glass towards you. “If you want to share them with me, I would like to listen.”

You stare at the glass for a moment before looking up at him. This was your first day back and you already felt cornered.

“Maybe later, Cap,” you smile and close the door.

Steve stood there, feeling like he had made a fool of himself. He can hear you start some music. He didn’t recognize the artist, but the beat coming through the door was catchy.

“Smooth, _Cap_ ,” Natasha appears from the closet near your room.

“How long have you been there?” Steve asks, lowering his arm with the glasses.

“Long enough,” she admits. “You know, I’ve been trying to set you up with a nice girl. The one time you pull through, Mr. Suave is out the window.”

“I’ve been out of the game for quite a long time,” he shrugs, turning to leave. Natasha follows him.

“She’s different,” Natasha coaxes. “She’s smart. Cute. Those fluffy wings have _got_ to be good for cuddling after a nice, long session of steamy—“

“Stop,” he interrupts. “I will not talk about that about someone I barely know.”

“Okay,” Natasha giggles, raising her arms. “But tell me afterwards if I’m right.”

“Stop,” he says sternly but she could see a flush forming on his cheeks. “Don’t assume that I’ll—that we’ll—“

Steve clears his throat and shakes his head. He finally stops and hands the glasses and the wine to Natasha.

“Here,” he huffs and she couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” she says, taking the wine and glasses from him.

“Stop,” he groans again, rubbing his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brother in law is letting me use his Disney+ account and I’ve been watching SO MUCH MARVEL. So yeah. Enjoy.


	4. A Welcoming Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hosts a celebration at his tower, though it was just an excuse to see her in a dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of Overwatch content, guys. I kinda fell out of it...Maybe I’ll go back. Not sure. Let me know what you’d like to read next @ hypnoscissorsghostnerd.tumblr.com !

A twitch.

That’s all you saw; a single twitch, but it was progress.

You ignored your phone as it buzzed for the fifth time, hunched over your workbench as you hastily work to catch the twitch again; to record it, to see what caused it.

This plant’s tissue wiggled on its own, which was severely uncommon with cells that had walls. You looked at the chloroplast, the oxygen bubbles, then...the ribosome.

The bloody ribosome was _moving_.

Intrigued, you poured yourself into work. You took the sample and shoved it into a tube, pushing it on a larger microscope that brought up a large digital screen. Your eyes lit up as you saw the RNA molecules making unique patterns. Just a few more minutes and perhaps you can crack this strange code.

You couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but the way your back screamed from being in that hunched position told you it’s been hours.

The door suddenly slid open and you jumped, nearly knocking over your work. You look over your shoulder angrily, your feathers ruffled from the shock.

“Sorry,” Tony leans against your door, chewing on something.

“I’m busy,” you growl.

“Do you ever look at your phone?” He points at your desk where your phone had been left abandoned. You look over at it before back at him.

“Yes?” You questionably answer.

“No, you don’t,” he corrects. “If you did, you’d realize I have called you twice within the past five hours. I’ve given you ample time to respond to me, so I decided to come down where. I hate being ghosted.”

“What do you want?” You turn your back to him, but he considered it an invitation and walks in.

“We,” he draws out. He comes to your workbench and leans against it, forcing himself in your peripherals. However, you kept your gaze in front of you, fidgeting with solutions to prevent any mistakes. 

“Have a mission,” he finally finishes.

Your eyes finally dart up to meet his, his mouth moving as he pops another snack into his mouth.

“Can you not eat near my work?” You sneer. “If it was a mission, I would’ve heard something by now.”

“It’s my mission,” he points at himself, his finger burying into his chest. “To welcome _you_ to the team.” At ‘you’, he points in your direction for emphasis.

“My _mission_ is to do work and go home,” you snap.

“Whoa,” he raises his hands. “Easy. It’s a party. You should come.”

The word “party” stuns you. You have never been to a party before. Nobody wanted to see the Hunchback of Notre Dame when you hid your wings under a coat. The many thoughts in your mind must’ve shown on your face, because Tony chuckles.

“I’ve asked the girls get a dress tailored for you,” he nods at the door. “It’s at my place. I sent the address to your phone if you ever look at it.”

You roll your eyes as you hear a gentle knock at the door. You turn to see Natasha and Wanda smiling at you at the door. A couple of hangers with black bags hung over Natasha’s arm.

“We couldn’t decide which one you liked better,” Natasha said, motioning to the bags on her arm. “So we brought both.”

“I’ll leave you ladies to it,” Tony excuses himself and closes the door behind him.

Natasha smiles as she hands you one of the bags, giving Wanda the second. She unzips the bag as you step back, eyeing your work.

“It’ll still be there when we get back,” Natasha reassures, seeing your hesitation. “We promise.”

“I thought red would go with your wings,” Wanda intervenes, unzipping the second bag.

Underneath Wanda’s bag was a red dress, asymmetrical so that it stopped at the knees in the front and flowed in the back. It was a loose v-neck cut with a collar and an open back. She had obviously considered your extra limbs for comfort.

Natasha doesn’t say anything, but holds up the second dress. It was dark blue, almost black. it was a cocktail dress and it, too, was open-back. However, it was a circular cut so that it still zipped up to your lower back. The sleeves were off-shoulder, hugging around the shoulder blades to stay on your body.

“Let’s try them both on,” Natasha offers. “Do you need help? We know your assistant used to do that on occasion.”

You feel yourself flush with embarrassment and hoped they wouldn’t notice; getting dressed was never your forte. You’ve always worn oversized coats or a bandeaux you made yourself that went under your extra limbs and tied at the front to cover your breasts. And that was exactly what was underneath your lab coat.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Natasha smiles. “We’re all girls here.”

It took them a while, but with two extra pairs of hands, you were able to get into the suggested dresses pretty quickly. You didn’t have a keen eye on fashion, so you based it off the comfort level. “The black cocktail dress,” you say. You watched in amusement as Wanda sighs and hands her a few bills from her jacket and Natasha smoothly pockets it with a cocky smile. “Now,” Natasha hums. “Let’s get your hair and makeup done.” 

* * *

Your wings felt exposed as you went out into public for the first time in years, the wind as you walk up to the building from the large limo combing through your feathers like cold, unfamiliar fingers. You couldn’t suppress the shudder as Natasha hooks her arm through yours.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassures, misreading your shudder as anxiety. “It’s just going to be a few agents and our friends.”

That word sat strangely in your gut as you walked into the building with the comfort of an assassin by your side. It was oddly ironic as you step into the dimly lit floor and music pulsing.

The lounge was absolutely beautiful. There was an open bar with a bartender that you recognized as an agent. Everyone was well-dressed and suddenly, you were glad you wearing the cocktail dress, though it hiked up occasionally and you had an odd wobble of a walk to get it back down.

There was a heatless fire pit in the center of the room surrounded by pristine couches, stools were shining under the dim can lights, and there were beautiful people left and right, carrying glasses as light laughter and chatter filled the room. It all fell silent as you walked in. Many eyes landed on you (or was it your wings?) as you stepped inside.

Your gracious host comes up and he waved everyone away. People slowly began adverting their eyes and continuing on in their conversations, though some turned into whispers about you.

Feeling anxious, you began to fidget and Natasha loosens her grip on your arm.

“Here,” Tony hands you a whiskey glass with golden brown liquid.

You take it graciously and sip at it before making a face. Tony laughs and nods as he lifts his own glass and sips it all the same.

“I’m going to go mingle,” Natasha gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Have fun, okay?”

You give her a feign smile as Tony takes a second sip with you. He then offers you an arm an motions to the spot where people were swaying to music. 

“Shall we?” He asks.

You eye the offered arm before tossing back the drink. Tony raises a brow as a waiter offers to take your empty glass. He seems to not bat an eye at your extra limbs. Then again, he probably have seen weirder shit. Tony places his half-drank glass on one of the low tables before leading you to the dance floor.

To your surprise, Tony whisks you away on the dance floor. His hands expertly finds your waist and your shoulder, bringing you in close enough you can smell the alcohol on his breath. He lets out a heavy sigh as your bodies close and he rocks you to the jazzy tunes playing.

“What are you doing?” You protest, your wings fluffing in defense.

“Easy,” he coaxes. “Natasha told me to be your wingman so I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop fighting me,” he tsks. “I’m trying to make someone jealous.”

“Can we talk about something else while I’m so...close?” You try to push away, but his hand was uncomfortably close to your lower back and held you in places.

“Like what?” Tony questions, but you could tell he was distracted. “Like how you got those wings? They’re surprisingly light.”

“It’s 90% feathers,” you answer with a puzzled expression, though you knew he couldn’t see your face well. “My bones are a little less dense for flight purposes.”

“Like a bird,” he hums in wonder. “I bet if you fell from a significant height that would kill any other man, you’d walk away with a couple of scrapes.”

“Yes, one of the many blessings of my past,” you sigh. “I don’t like this conversation, either.”

“You asked,” Tony says. You feel his body tense. “There he is. Play along.”

“What?”

Tony brings you in for an awkward embrace, your wings opening a fourth of the way in defense, his chin hooking over your shoulder to keep you in as he whispers in your ear.

_”Take a deep breath.”_

You could barely obey that as you felt a hand gently come between you. He had said that so you wouldn’t gasp.

“Mind if I butt in?”

Tony finally lets go of you as he motions graciously at the intruder, disappearing into the party with a booming voice to call attention to himself.

In his stead, larger yet gentler hands land on your waist and the other finds your hand before leading you into a gentle step-to-step.

“Cap,” you greet.

The man before you was wearing a slim fit button up dress shirt that was too small for him. It was rolled up to show his forearms and you wondered if that was intentional or a fashion statement. His shirt was neatly tucked in to dark dress pants.

“I like the dress,” he compliments. His eyes were steel blue under the dim lights, but as your gaze met his, it was hard to look away. “Must be comfortable with your...uh...”

“They’re just wings, Captain,” you smile.

“Right,” he lets out an awkward chuckle. 

The music slows to a stop before changing songs to something a bit more upbeat. It’s still a gentle tune, but you use it as an excuse to part from him.

“Thanks for the dance, Cap,” you smirked. At the tug of your lips, you saw his eyes dart down to them and stay there for a moment too long. You turn to leave before he follows you.

“Wait,” he says and you briefly pause to look at him. “You can just call me Steve outside of duty.”

“I like Cap better,” you suppressed a giggle as you turned back around to find your way to the bar.

The party went on. You drank a little more than you usually would, so a nice buzz ran through your veins as Natasha’s charming laugh cut through your daydreaming. People were dwindling out as the night got late before you were all sitting around the heatless fire. Your eyes stared into the dancing flames, your drunk mind hypnotized by it. Sam laughs at something Tony says as Wanda shifts in her seat, texting someone on her phone and looking mildly amused.

“I did invite him,” Tony says to her. “But he’s still laying low I think. Banner’s still stuck up to make it to these things. And apparently gods don’t have cell phones.”

Natasha found Steve lingering at the bar, picking up a drink as he fidgeted with the glass. She watches you daze off into the fire as she gets up with an excuse to get some water for the group.

“Hey,” she bumps Steve as she leans over the bar. The bartender had left, so she reaches over to grab some water bottles.

“I keep messing up,” he says. “I don’t think I should do this.”

“Well,” she says. “You got pretty jealous when she was dancing with Stark.”

“Excuse me?” He turns his head, but she catches him glance over to where you sat, laughing with the small group around the fire.

“Your jaw tensed,” she tilts her head to look up at him. “It’s okay to have a crush, Steve. We’ll get you two alone. Talk to her.”

He stays tense, deep in thought before nodding. Natasha smiles as she takes the bottles and gets to work.

A cold bottle touches your shoulder, catching your attention. You graciously take the water bottle from her before drinking half the bottle in a single go.

“I’m going on a flight to meet with him,” Wanda says to Tony as she stands.

“Go,” Tony motions. “Don’t fail out on love.”

“That’s uncharacteristic of you,” Natasha coos. “Come on. Bedtime.”

“It’s my party!” Tony drunkenly protests, but lets out a groan as he allows her to help him stand up.

“Help me dress him, Sam,” Natasha nods to him. “I don’t care to see what’s under this.”

“Sure,” Sam sighs, placing his beer bottle heavily down on the table in front of him before getting up.

You watched as the small group began to file out of the room, leaving you sitting on the couch and Steve at the bar. You let out a sigh as you drink the rest of your water and stretch out your wings now that the room was cleared.

Steve turns his head at the right moment to see your open wings and watched with amazement as you had complete control over them, watching them fold back comfortably back onto your body. You turned and his head snapped back, but you smiled as you realized you caught him staring.

“Good night, Cap,” you say. “I’m headed back to my apartment.”

“I don’t think you should drive inebriated,” he responds.

“I was going to get a ride,” you shrug. “Or I can fly there.”

“I’ll drive,” he offers as he stands. “I’m not letting you fly drunk, either.”

* * *

The car ride was quiet as Steve drove down the sleeping streets of New York. You only spoke to give him directions at turns, but you couldn’t help but notice how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.

“Here,” you point at a large tower with balconies lining every sliding glass door.

“Can I walk you up?” He finally speaks just as you were about to climb out.

“Sure,” you say.

Again, it fell silent as you walk into the apartment S.H.I.E.L.D. had rented for your stay away from home. There was that room at the actual base, but they knew that sometimes it would be necessary for you to rest outside of work. Or as a backup location just in case the base was compromised. In this case, you just wanted to get away from it for one night.

You take the elevator to the basement where there were only three apartments. All were studio and yours was the one at the end of the hallway, simply marked as “UTILITY”.

“You live in a utility closet?” He jokes.

“I think that’s giving this place too much credit,” you scoff as you unlocked the door.

The door opened to reveal a fully furnished studio; kitchen was separated by an island counter, a bed, a dresser, and a small TV mounted on the wall opposite of the bed. Someone left a vase full of fresh flowers on the island counter.

“It’s not bad,” Steve comments.

He seems to hesitate at the door as you were about to walk in.

“Do you...want some tea?” You offer.

“Oh,” Steve stutters before smiling. “Uh, no, no thank you. Perhaps next time.”

“Next time,” you echo softly and his eyes meet yours.

At the open doorway, there’s another awkward tension between the two of you as you step forward and gently cup his cheek. He doesn’t flinch, nor does he move away.

“Thank you for driving me back,” your voice drops to a whisper. His eyes dart down your face, stops at your lips, then back up at your eyes. He was looking for something.

You lean forward to kiss him on the cheek and you feel his arms twitch, unsure what to do with them. When you slowly pull away, his eyes were still searching yours. Looking. Wondering.

He closes the small gap between the two of you and unexpectedly, his warm lips are pressed against yours.

_Oh._

You realize it now.

_He was looking for permission._

_..._

_What a gentleman._

You tilt your head into the kiss as the hand cupping his cheek stays there, your other arm snaking its way around his neck as he leans down so you didn’t have to be on your toes.

His lips moved in sync with yours as his head tilts to kiss you deeper. A small sound escape him and it sends shudders down your spine. This kiss felt like more than two soldiers who just met. And you didn’t want it to end.

His hands move around you as they bring you in close, air escaping his nose sharply as he leans you back. Slowly, you step back into your room and he kicks the door behind you. He turns you gently so that he presses you against the door, his lips parting and asking for yours to do the same. When you follow, his tongue slips through and you hear a low moan escape your mouth, embarrassed that such a sound would emit from you but it seemed to spur him on.

Steve’s body presses against yours as your hand that was initially cupping his cheek now running up into his hair. It was soft and gel-free. He grips you close, his arms snaking around your body. A hand presses against the door as you lean up against it, wanting more, needing more.

When you felt his hip press against you, you felt something jump against the contact.

That was when he gasped and pulled away, your hands loosening from his hair as you feel him push gently away from you.

“Did I do something?” You ask through panting breaths.

His lips were glazed from your kiss and you watch with a suppressed shudder as he licks it clean.

“No I...” he hesitates. “I shouldn’t do this to you.”

“Oh,” you exhale.

He side-steps you and you free up the door by stepping to the side. He shuffles around you with a shy chuckle as he opens the door.

“Uh,” he stammers again before finally meeting your eyes. His cheeks were dusted with pink and his hips were angled away from you. “Get some rest.”

“Good night, Steve,” you say softly.

Saying his name stirred something in him, but he tries his best to hide it.

“Good night,” he smiles.

The door latches behind him and you listen to his heavy footsteps fade.


End file.
